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If music be the food for life, we serve mini meals!Fri, 29 May 2020 19:48:18 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.9.14https://www.musicaloud.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/cropped-ma-logo-bigger-32x32.jpgFilm Music – Music Aloudhttps://www.musicaloud.com
323264877190Gulabo Sitabo – Music Review (Bollywood Soundtrack)https://www.musicaloud.com/2020/05/29/gulabo-sitabo-music-review-bollywood-soundtrack/
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Like with his last film, director Shoojit Sircar once again entrusts the biggest share of songs from Gulabo Sitabo – four tracks out of the eight originals – to his favourite composer, Shantanu Moitra. His first song, Kanjoos, seems to be a tongue-in-cheek ode to Amitabh Bachchan’s landlord character. Delivered by Mika singh, lyricist Puneet Sharma writes this well, and Moitra’s arrangement is a sprightly folk-based one – which is a running theme throughout the soundtrack – and features a wacky assortment of sounds courtesy khamak (gabgubi?), dotara, morsing, vocal percussions et al (most of them played by Rathijit Bhattacharjee). Kya Leke Aayo Jagme, written and sung by Vinod Dubey, is a bit more pensive in tone, and quite a fitting theme for the times we are going through. Both lyrically and musically, I find the song to belong to the Kabir Café zone (Mumbai folk band that adapts Kabir poetry). And I enjoyed this song more than the first. Moitra’s other two songs are instrumental themes. Folk instruments from the previous songs get on the front seat to kick off the first theme piece, alongside solos on sitar, shehnai etc, giving you the aural equivalent of a pleasant ride through the countryside. It is however the other theme song that I wish were a longer piece (it lasts just under a minute). Shirish Malhotra’s lovely clarinet improvs over a Western-flavoured melody, later joined by a bluesy piano riff, makes for a wonderfully contrasting combo with the Rathijit’s khomok. Continuing on a similarly whimsical note as the clarinet theme (and also annoyingly short like the latter) is Jootam Phenk, composed by Abhishek Arora, who debuted seven years back with the same director-actor combo (as Abhishek-Akshay). Man gets just one song here, but makes it totally count – the delightful swing piece sees Shirish Malhotra and guitarist Ankur Mukherjee running riot in the backdrop, even as Piyush Mishra – a perfect choice for this song – delivers a fine job behind the mic as well. The soundscape does seem reminiscent of Finding Fanny at times – not a bad soundtrack to get reminded of, at all!

These past few years, multiple talented musicians have been handed their Bollywood debut by Shoojit Sircar (including the one who composed the previous song). In Gulabo Sitabo, one more name gets added to the list, Anuj Garg. Garg gets Tochi Raina for Madari Ka Bandar, a pleasantly soothing folk piece written by Dinesh Pant (who writes all of the composer’s songs for the album). The star of the song though is Ankur Mukherjee with his stellar job on an assortment of small strings (the rhythm on guitar reminds me of Pari Hoon Main). One of the things I most liked about Anuj Garg’s songs in the album is the indie folk fusion sound all of them carry. Do Din Ka Ye Mela for instance could fit into a Coke Studio or Indian Ocean set – incidentally it is sung by Rahul Ram as well. Top class arrangement once again – my absolute favourite bit is when the vocals in the first verse nicely segues into a fine classical guitar solo (by Daksh Jain, I assume). An alternate version of the song, which differs only in the vocal aspect, is sung by Tochi Raina. The final song, Budhau (also a song about Bachchan’s character it would seem – really well written by Pant), also comes in two versions. The reprise version is the kind of song that you would expect when you read the song’s rustic lyrics – very earthy, and rendered earnestly by Bhanvari Devi whom you might remember from Ram Sampath’s Coke Studio India Season 3 episode. The main version of the song, however, is a surprising take on the same lines (barring one verse that is slightly modified) – composer takes the Western country music route for this one, and it fits! Ankur Mukherjee is once again in top form here, alongside an equally wonderful Robin Fargose on the trumpet – and leading all of them is vocalist Bobby Cash (wiki tells me he is an Indian country musician; I must confess I did not know of Indians performing country music until now); loved the cool, composed air with which he sings this one.

Shoojit Sircar and Ayushmann Khurrana – both people known to feature great music in their movies (most of the time). And Gulabo Sitabo is the best soundtrack that has featured in their movies in a very long time!

Music Aloud Rating: 4/5

Top Recos: Do Din Ka Ye Mela, Budhau, Jootam Phenk

PS: If online streaming release of movies means a timely release of the full soundtrack, I am totally game for this trend!

Vennila, the first song to release from Vellai Yaanai way back in January (which feels like a different era now), sits well with the rustic environs that the movie seems to be set in, and is an instant throwback to the yesteryear Raja songs in the same genre. Sung by Vijaynarain and Sangeetha Karupaiah, the song features some lovely harmonies (arranged by Ananthu) and stays largely loyal to the retro setting, barring the guitar improvs by Keba Jeremiah. The other celebratory track of the soundtrack, on the other hand, is a contemporary folk piece. Carrying a whiff of ARR’s Maduraikku Pogaathadi in places, Thandhom Thana (written by singer Anthony Daasan) sees flautist Vishnu Vijay deliver some excellent solos. Leading the vocals on this fun track is Mukesh.

The other three songs of the album have composer Santhosh Narayanan dialling down the folk aspect and going dominantly Western with his arrangements. Vaazha Vachonae sees the composer in home turf – a haunting melancholic tune (sung splendidly by Vijaynarain) set to a sprawling backdrop that is largely comprised of violins by the Macedonian Symphonic Orchestra. The Casteless Collective’s Arivu who pens this one, continuing his one-song cameo routine in Santhosh Narayanan movies. The composer’s own vocals are the only weak point of an otherwise wonderfully crafted Aara Thedum – while the orchestration in general is top notch here, I particularly loved D Balasubramani’s naadaswaram solo echoing across the minimal soundscape in the interlude, and the frenzy around the saname refrain. The album’s final song Nellu Vaasam, going by its lyrics (written by writer Raju Murugan), seems to be the movie’s theme song. A pensive track that is set to an addictive groove – absolutely loved the bassline from Naveen Napier, and the assortment of percussion used by Jaicha – and highlighted by the kids’ chorus, this one is my pick of the album!

The first look poster of 99 Songs (have put that as the cover image for anyone who might have forgotten it, given how long back that was) featured a piano. If, like me, you had set your expectations on hearing a lot of piano in the soundtrack based on that, you are in for a bit of a bummer because the instrument makes an appearance in just four of the 14 songs. The good news though, is that it makes for delightful hearing wherever it has been employed. Particularly so in the instrumental The Oracle where it is the lead instrument, played of course by A R Rahman himself. Starting off a bit tentatively, the piece picks up pace and gravity as it goes, with the Budapest Scoring Orchestra and flautist Kareem Kamalakar joining the composer. Humnawaa has a decent melody – delivered brilliantly by Armaan Malik, with Shashaa Tirupati chipping in with the occasional humming (she has also turned lyricist for this song, alongside Dilshaad Shabbir Shaikh and another surprise entry, Abhay Jodhpurkar) – but it is the piano that elevates the song to another level. Rahman has a brilliantly harmonic classical piece running along the length of the song (in fact Shashaa’s humming bits are aligned to the piano), that by itself could have made for a great instrumental track, but also complements the main melody fabulously. Composer gets a guest pianist for Soja Soja, American keyboardist Randy Kerber. While Kerber is fab on his part, along with an equally fine brass ensemble, Shashaa Tirupati bosses this boisterous jazz piece with an incredibly impassioned rendition. The arrangement is once again clever – a slow-burning prelude that belies what is to come, until the main song kicks in literally with a bang. Rahman’s piano solo gets Teri Nazar off to a haunting start (slight shade of charukeshi raga, I felt), though the song itself is significantly low on that aspect. It is however a pleasant throwback to some of Rahman’s yesteryear songs – I personally felt it belongs to the ARR-Ashutosh Gowariker soundscape. Shashwat Singh, who is the lead singer for the soundtrack (appearing in six songs), delivers this one in style. The soundtrack’s longest track, Sai Shirdi Sai, is a track the composer originally released in Hindi, Tamil and Telugu for Tamil New Year last year (thanks to @soundtrackindia for this reminder), presented here without any changes. A sufi ode of sorts to Sai Baba, it makes for a soothing listen, particularly for Bela Shende’s delivery. Shende does one better in the very effective lullaby titled O Mera Chaand. The melody feels a bit familiar, but the other elements pretty much make up for it; in these troubled times, these are kind of songs that you are likely to find quite helpful. The sai sai chorus from the previous song makes a reappearance here, in the interlude. The Voice Without Words is a strange one – spoiler alert: it has words (yes, yes, I know it refers to the subject of the song rather than the song itself) – with the expansive orchestration and Navneet Virk’s words, coming across in Poorvi Koutish’s whispery narration, it almost feels like the intro for some nature show!

The most interesting aspect of Jwalamukhi, aside of the fact that it is a term you rarely hear in Hindi songs, is how different Arijit Singh sounds in this one – I still have a bit of difficulty adjusting to it, each time I hear the track. The song is the relative weakling of the album otherwise. With the introduction of more live elements (the Sunshine Orchestra, who feature in multiple songs here) in the predominantly electronic soundscape, the female version is an improvement over the original (great singing by Poorvi Koutish as well), but doesn’t quite shake off that Yuvvraaj hangover still. While I love the live band playing for Nayi Nayi – Ranjit Barot, Warren Mendonsa and Ardeshir Mistry, and they are in great form here – the song felt a bit too generic to me (barring that surprise tabla cameo in between) to be memorable. The other “fast number” of the album however, Veere Kadh De, with its addictive combination of Krishna Kishor’s live percussion (an unmistakable throwback to Maaro Maaro) and electronic sounds with a smattering of Punjabi folk elements, is total fun! Leading the vocals here are Sarthak Kalyani and Swagat Rathod, both products of ARR’s ARRived contest. And now my three (current) top favourites from the album. Shashwat Singh sounds wonderful singing Sofia, a gentle but expansively arranged romantic melody that touches a new high in the final minute when the choral harmonies kick in (arranged by Arjun Chandy and Leon D’Souza supplying the additional vocals). The same combination, with a more elaborate chorus, delivers an even more beautiful end product in O Aashiqa. The melody and arrangement are both more haunting in this, and there is also a lovely segue into the Sai Shirdi Sai chorus in the second half, quite fittingly at a point where Navneet Virk’s lyrics almost sound like a prayer addressed to the mother. The composer goes traditional with Gori Godh Bhari (a baby shower song, as I understand) – a lovely classical flavoured melody (bageshri raga, perhaps?) supported by a rich orchestration highlighted by sarod (Sarang Kulkarni), sitar (Asad Khan) and shehnai (Omkar Dhumal). And the icing on the cake, the three incredible singers behind the mic – Alka Yagnik, Anuradha Sriram and Shweta Mohan.

99 Songs. An album that has been a very long time coming, and ends up being totally worth the wait. A R Rahman produces a thoroughly diverse soundtrack that is the best he has given Bollywood in a long time. And most importantly, it releases in its entirety, well before the movie’s release.

Listening to the Love Aaj Kal soundtrack the first time without actually seeing the song titles, it was a pleasant surprise to hear the line Yeh Dooriyaan pop up in the middle of one of the songs, accompanied by that familiar mock-whistle hook. In a recreation-ravaged Bollywood scene, this is one I do not particularly mind, firstly because it at least has a justification in terms of an actual relation with the older film, and secondly due to the tasteful execution, leaving the recreational aspect just to the abovementioned refrain (and the odd lyrical reference, like aa raha paas main ya door main jaa raha becoming a more affirmative zyaada paas aana hai asal mein door jaana). Well, I say tasteful execution, the song is still not a match for the original, despite positives like Mohit Chauhan sounding as good as he did 10 years back. There isn’t a lot happening in the main melody, a large part being made up of repeating bits, with the effect that the most memorable part of the song remains the bit it borrows from the 2009 song. Yeh Dooriyaan isn’t the only throwback song of the album – there is also Haan Main Galat, the Twist redux built around that refrain it originally borrowed from the 1954 film Nagin. And I find this song a more engaging one than Yeh Dooriyaan – an aptly contemporised and equally groovy take on the piece. There is one other retention from Love Aaj Kal, in the singing department – KK who sang Main Kya Hoon back then, gets an absolute belter here in Aur Tanha. The atmospheric sound with the pensive tune and rock-flavoured arrangement, along with the man’s never-aging voice (how does this man not get to sing more often even now!) evokes lovely memories of Pritam’s Life In a Metro, but there is also that beautifully employed, almost gospel choir-esque backing vocals adding to the proceedings. Irshad Kamil too is in spectacular form with his writing here, capturing the pain in vivid hues. The chorus comes into play in Dhak Dhak as well – but in a more outlandish fashion, that along with the folk arrangement would make this song a great fit in Jagga Jasoos’s Mombaka! It definitely sits at odds with Love Aaj Kal’s dominant soundscape. And Parmeshwara (or parmesara as the singers pronounce it) is the final song in that category, led as it is by rapper Raftaar. The “anti-commitment” hip-hop piece sees some smart writing but its highlight is the title hook which is built on an aarti style tune (was amusing, while googling up the song’s lyrics, to see the first search result a site called allbhajan)!

The rest of the soundtrack is Pritam showing that he will never lose his touch with weaving immensely hummable melodic pieces (or his love for alternate song versions). First up is Shayad that sees Arijit Singh deliver in his usual dependable fashion, in both the original version and the more ambient Reprise. I like the first version the better though, for its acoustic guitar-laden arrangement and that flute refrain, neither of which makes it to the latter. Arijit is in even finer form delivering Rahogi Meri – but Pritam embellishes the tune with so much more in its second version titled Haan Tum Ho (Dilshad Khan‘s sarangi in the first interlude is such a fab touch), and the icing on the cake is Shilpa Rao joining Arijit in the song’s second half with a lovely improvisational bit and the duo ending with a harmonised rendition of the opening verse. Darshan Raval and Antara Mitra lead Mehrama in both its versions – the extended version basically consisting of one added verse that Raval sings. There is a repeating viola phrase (played by Shirish Malhotra) that deserves a mention, not particularly for the playing brilliance, but for the way it contributes to the wistfulness and is likely to stay in your mind long after the song is done.

There is no question that the 2009 Love Aaj Kal soundtrack has aged wonderfully, and will always be counted among Pritam’s and Irshad Kamil’s best works. However, for sheer number of quality songs (and lesser Punjabi influence ) in this album, I’d rate the new Love Aaj Kal soundtrack higher. It remains to be seen how well this will stand the test of time, the song release pattern and the movie’s general performance are not likely to help its cause. Sad to see Imtiaz Ali gradually enter the league of the likes of Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra and Shaad Ali whose movies get looked forward to purely for their music.

Like writer-director Navjot Gulati’s last movie RunningShaadi.com, Jai Mummy Di‘s multi-composer lineup too features multiple names not seen in Bollywood that often. Unlike Running Shaadi, however, Jai Mummy Di’s soundtrack features recreations – two of them. First of the two, Lamborghini, is done by Meet Bros – interestingly the album credits have no mention of The Doorbeen who did the 2018 smash hit Lamberghini. While I imagine this is owing to the fact that the tune itself is a traditional one (Chitta Kukkad), that it is titled Lamborghini has got to have something to do with the Doorbeen track? Either way, I did end up mentally comparing the two songs, and in that comparison the Jai Mummy Di version comes off the inferior one – not at all helped by the tinny voice of Neha Kakkar. The other recreation comes from Tanishk Bagchi. Mummy Nu Pasand is a 2017 song composed by Sukh-E Muszical Doctorz, set to the Shape of You template and hence catchy. Bagchi does the smart thing of retaining the original singer here, Sunanda Sharma. I am not sure if it is just me, but Mika Singh sounds a bit younger in Ishq Da Band, composed by debutant (I assume) Gaurav Chatterji. Enjoyable dance track, this, I quite liked the folk-electronic melange forming the backdrop. Parag Chhabra composes the title song that has some fun lyrics from Shellee, but works best as part of the song video, not as effective on its own. Really glad that he chose to include Devender Pal Singh among the singers though (Nikhita Gandhi, Vivek Hariharan and Chhabra himself, the others), wish his melodic passage were longer.

Two other new names share the composing credits for Ajaa Ajaa, Rishi-Siddharth. And the duo fashion an effervescent rock and roll-styled piece on top of the Punjabi base, while Divya Kumar matches the energy levels behind the mic. It is Amartya “Bobo” Rahut who delivers the album’s best songs though. Dariyaganj is a lovely melodic piece that has a beautifully soothing guitar rhythm backing it (feels almost bossa nova). Written by Siddhant Kaushal, the song appears in two versions – first a duet by Arijit Singh and Dhvani Bhanushali, and the second a solo act by Bhanushali. And Manney Ignore Kar Rahi is a cleverly imagined wacky piece for a somber situation (my go-to reference point for such songs is Saigal Blues). Sung by Amitabh Bhattacharya – whose portfolio is largely comprised of such quirky songs, albeit mostly for Rahut’s ex band mate Amit Trivedi – who handles this as effectively as he has done similar songs in the past.

Much like the movie I had mentioned at the start of the review, Jai Mummy Di too succeeds in producing a fun soundtrack out of some lesser known musicians, and offers much diversity even while incorporating Punjabi elements in pretty much every song.

After ending the last decade with a period film about a Maratha warrior, composers Ajay Atul start their ‘20s innings with another song in a very similar setting (just one song this time though, the rest of Tanhaji’s soundtrack has been done by others). The duo themselves do not appear to have shed the memories of that last project, as Maay Bhavani carries a bit of a hangover from Mere Mann Mein Shiva. Despite the derivative aspect though, this ends up a slightly better affair, buoyed by the mellower melodic passages and the delivery led by Sukhwinder Singh and Shreya Ghoshal. With its heavier folk bent, the album’s other devotional song is a more entertaining listen however, Mehul Vyas’s Shankara Re Shankara sung by Vyas and Adarsh Shinde (the latter I assume delivers the brief Marathi portion). And thanks to the choice of instruments in the backdrop, this is the only song in the soundtrack that, at seems to belong closest to the time the movie is set in (the lyrics, it must be added, do help dilute that effect a fair bit).

The composing duo who had a fairly busy 2019 – Sachet Tandon and Parampara Thakur – get the other half of the soundtrack. And after the token devotional song entries, Sachet-Parampara’s first offering is the token battle anthem. While this song too follows a pretty formulaic approach, the core refrain – delivered in multiple forms throughout the piece – lends it a rousing, haunting quality, particularly the way the chorus sings it. That tune though, seems to be reminiscent of some older melody (mind goes back to the theme tune of the 2017 Tamil film Vikram Vedha). The composers’ other song is a romantic melody titled Tinak Tinak – a pleasant piece that is very well arranged (the plucked strings and shehnai in particular are well employed throughout the song), and Harshdeep Kaur in top form behind the mic. The problem I have is again the song not quite sounding like it belongs to the period, or even the region in this case – in fact the song sounds so contemporary filmi most of the time, the lyrics could well be the standard Punjabi-Hindi mix and it would fit right in. A special mention to Pritesh Mehta who did the music production here – possibly one of the last projects he did before his untimely and unfortunate death last year.

The decade comes to an end in a few hours – in fact, it might have ended already in the some parts, by the time you read this post. It has been an eventful decade in every regard, equally so in music. I have written a bit on some of the key musical trends in Bollywood from a composer angle, here. This post, however, is not about the decade of course (I did have lofty ambitions of doing a decade list, but don’t think that is happening now), it is my annual ritual of looking at the year’s music and picking my favourites, now for the 11th time. The trends have continued pretty much as they did the past 2-3 years. Bollywood continued to disappoint, by and large, despite two incredible soundtracks in the first quarter, and Malayalam and Tamil – the two other industries that I keenly follow – continued to tick along with some more talented debutants joining the fold.

The roundups follow my usual format – I go by movie release dates (album release date for the indie/pop list), and this year it is back to my usual set of lists: Bollywood, Malayalam, Tamil, Indian Indie/Pop and a miscellaneous list covering the movie songs from other languages I have managed to catch up on during the year. Playlists have been created on Youtube and Apple Music, complete to the extent of availability on the platforms.

Hope you enjoy the playlists. Wish you all a wonderful new year and a new decade!

It was Zandu balm in part 1, and Fevicol in part 2. In Dabangg 3, the product the makers decide to promote through an item song (wonder if they get paid for this sort of product placement each time) is Set Wet ka gel. Munna Badnaam Hua riffs off Lalit Pandit’s hit song from the first movie of the franchise – interestingly Pandit is not credited against the song, perhaps because the central hook they use here was “borrowed” from Pakistan to begin with? – and turns out quite entertaining. Aside of switching the role of the badnaam person (unwittingly aligning the song to the Pakistani original – Ladka Badnaam Hua), Danish Sabri and Badshah’s lines are enjoyably tongue-in-cheek at times, and features a bunch of meta moments, like the song getting rewinded at gaana rewind hua, and Salman Khan hua darling tere liye. Mamta Sharma is unsurprisingly the female singer, joined by Kamaal Khan and Badshah filling in the rap bits. Munna is not the only song that refers back to the franchise, as it happens. There is also Hud Hud, where composers Sajid Wajid once again build on the first movie’s title song – while there are clearly elements they borrow, the melody and arrangement have a more pronounced folk (Punjabi, of course) flavour. And Sukhwinder Singh is replaced by Divya Kumar (have always felt Kumar is a younger sounding Sukhwinder, perhaps that was the idea here too), accompanied by Shabab Sabri and Sajid. I assume the presence of Prabhu Deva at the movie’s helm to be the reason for the soundtrack’s other dance song having a South Indian sound. Nothing much of interest going on here otherwise though, prime reason being that it is the heavily processed voice of Salman Khan leading the proceedings, with Payal Dev giving him company for brief moments. The kissing sound that keeps repeating throughout the song is another reason that is likely to keep you away from this.

In keeping with the general Dabangg format, the other half of the album is set aside for romantic melodies, with the added bonus of a third melody taking up the spot of the usual remix. One of the composers’ favourites, Shreya Ghoshal features in Habibi Ke Nain, joined by Jubin Nautiyal. Barring the weirdness of the word habibi itself, and the overall familiarity, the song is a really pleasant listen, very well delivered by the two singers. The quality of singing is the highlight of Naina Lade as well; Javed Ali doing the solo act in this case. Interesting that the obsession with eyes seems as much a running theme with the Dabangg soundtrack series as the namechecking of brands (you might remember Tere Mast Mast Do Nain from part 1 and Tore Naina Bade Dagabaaz from part 2). The final song titled Awara features a curious change of scale after a prelude from Muskaan. Nice melody otherwise – delivering this song alongside Muskaan is Salman Ali who, in the higher registers, sounds a lot like Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, a singer who incidentally used to sing such songs in the past instalments (I am sensing a pattern here).

It could well be the recency bias working in its favour, but I find Sajid Wajid to have delivered a better set of songs in Dabangg 3 than they did in the second part; in fact this is the best they have sounded (to be fair you don’t hear them that often of late anyway) in quite a while.

For the third time since his iconic partnership began with A R Rahman in Lagaan back in 2001, director Ashutosh Gowariker goes for a different composer (the previous two being Sohail Sen for What’s Your Rashee and the very underrated Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Sey). Despite their recent patchy run in Bollywood, Ajay Atul make perfect sense as composing choice, given the movie’s setting. Interestingly, while director Gowariker has switched composers on multiple occasions, his loyalty doesn’t appear to waver in the lyrical department – in Panipat too he entrusts this duty with the veteran Javed Akhtar. The first song, a paean to the Maratha men (with a brief passage dedicated to the women as well) titled Mard Maratha, belongs to the same mould as multiple such heroic songs, except with an understandably pronounced Marathi bent in the arrangement (the percussion, mainly). To be picking an example from the Gowariker stable itself that it takes the mind back to, Azeem O Shaan Shehenshah, incidentally a song extolling the man who won the Panipat battle that preceded the one this movie is based on. Coming back to Mard Maratha, enjoyable song – it is hard not to like those heavy percussions and that rhythm. While the composers lead the singing with a host of singers in tow (good to see names like Sudesh Bhosle and Kunal Ganjawala), the one person that caught my attention despite a very brief appearance was Padmanabh Gaikwad, assuming he is the owner of the young voice that appears towards the end of second verse.

Judging by its video, Mere Mann Mein Shiva seems to be this movie’s attempt at Malhari, albeit dressed up as a devotional piece. The composers however appear to model this on another dance song of theirs, Gun Gun Guna from Agneepath (still their best Hindi soundtrack by miles), with entertaining results. Kunal Ganjawala gets to the forefront on this one, with Deepanshi Nagar leading the female portions. Ajay Atul get one of their favourites, Shreya Ghoshal, and Abhay Jodhpurkar – a singer who debuted in Hindi last year with the same duo – to croon the final piece. Sapna Hai Sach Hai is a poignant melody that the two singers ace, but once again the composers seem to channel one of their older compositions, yet again from Agneepath – O Saiyyaan. Not to say the composition isn’t effective – the quality singing, the minimal yet resonant orchestration that intensifies at just the right moments only to fade away again, and the mantras (I presume the song is set around their wedding) all come together rather well.

With just three tracks, Panipat is a surprisingly short soundtrack for an Ashutosh Gowariker movie. And while Ajay Atul’s songs are enjoyable, they don’t count as particularly memorable owing to their derivative nature. It speaks volumes about the lacklustre year Bollywood has had, that Panipat still counts as one of the better albums we have had in 2019.

It was the 2013 Vidyut Jammwal starrer Commando that marked the debut of composer Manan Shah. The soundtrack had one composition that bore promise. In the six years that followed, the composer has had two letters added to his name (it is Mannan Shaah now), but unfortunately only as many albums added to his portfolio as well – the sequel to Commando, and Namaste England last year, which was a more promising affair. And this year it is back to the third part of the Commando franchise (never watched any of the Commando movies, but very curious now, given that the series is now three strong!). Well, Shaah gets just one half of the soundtrack this time; Marathi composer Vikram Montrose, who debuted in Bollywood with Sanju last year, gets the other half.

Montrose gets the heavier, more aggressive songs of the album. Tera Baap Aaya is forgettable hip hop based fare, especially for its middling, mostly silly rhymes. Farhad Bhiwandiwala, who writes the lines, also delivers them. His second song turns out slightly better, thanks to a catchy melody at the core, delivered by the spirited as ever Sukhwinder Singh. The composer himself handles the rapping here (presumably the writing too), and this too is more listenable than the childish threats in the first one. In both of the previous Commando instalments, Mannan Shaah had delivered a competent melody apiece. In Commando 3 too, his first offering is a soothing melodic composition – written mostly in Punjabi (unsurprisingly) by Sahil Sultanpuri. Ankhiyan Milavanga is sung by Arijit Singh and Malayali singer Sruthy Sasidharan, making her Hindi film debut, and both do a great job on their part. I like the fact that composer chose to use a qamancha (played by Rasa-Lila Buniatyan) instead of a violin, as one of the leading instruments. Shaah gets Ankit Tiwari to sing Main Woh Raat Hoon, the soundtrack’s final entry. Not sure if it is Tiwari’s influence rubbing off on Shaah, but the song could very much pass off for something the former came up with (which brings me to the question as to why he does not compose more these days; his composing style did have a lot of takers and clearly the labels still want songs of the kind). The melancholic rock base, the slow build-up to a soaring finish is all very familiar. Nevertheless, it still is one of the album’s better songs.

Much like the previous two instalments of the Commando franchise, Commando 3 too has just one song that is worth multiple revisits. And that one comes from Mannan Shaah. Well, at least they avoided including a recreation (just to refresh your memory, for Commando 2 they recreated the Bhool Bhulaiya title song; a song that was less than 10 years old at that point!).